Friends of NIMH
by GypsyQueen
Summary: Spike has been part of the AI family for a while, but certain problems are starting to come to head. Angel starts to brood and then obsesses... Skittles has a personality Related to series, but can be read alone, if you wish.
1. The Past and Pending

-This story is directly related to a series I am writing. If you went in order you would have to read Admittance, The Dalliance of the Eagles, and Carpe Diem, before ever touching this story. The catch is, I don't believe in putting such boundaries on a person and what they want to read, so you can read this story as a standalone, if you wish. All you need to know is, Spike is an integrated part of the Angel Investigations family (he never died, in my story) and it is suddenly coming more clear that, since there is another vampire with a soul, Angel is not the only one in line for the shan-shu. (Oh, yeah! Connor is still around and Cordelia hasn't been in a coma, for a long while.) This is the deranged musings of an upset sire. Enjoy!-  
  
I don't own BTVS or AtS. I don't own the characters in this story. I just like to play with them, because it satisfies my hunger for everything and anything Joss. No, I am not comparing myself to Joss Whedon. I'm not *that* egotistical. Anyway, as you probably already know, this is the time where I say...  
  
On with the show.   
  
::Friends of NIMH- The Past and Pending::  
  
Spike isn't talking to me again, which, in all actuality, doesn't make a bit of difference, since I'm not talking to him either. I've thought about the situation, extensively, and I have decided that if Spike were a woman, he would be a complete and utter bitch. I discussed my theory with Connor and Wesley. They both exchanged glances and shrugged. It's really starting to piss me off that they always seem to take his side, in matters. It's not that I don't want them to like Spike. He's my childe and I want him to be liked... I just don't want him to be liked more than me. I know that it sounds like I'm jealous, but I'm not. The truth of the matter is, I'm just being logical.   
  
Okay, if you dissect me and Spike... not literally, of course... you will find that I have been soul-filled a *lot* longer than Spike has. Even when people found out I was soulful, they still had a hard time getting used to me, let alone liking me. Now, Spike, on the other hand, has had his soul all of six months, at the most, and people 'magically' feel inclined to agree with his point of view, on every matter. It's a mystery to me, why anyone would ever even consider his point of view, since it is always irrational and self-serving. This just leads me to the conclusion that humans, in general, whether they are ex-prom queens or green with horns, are an irrational and self-serving lot of people and that is why they relate to Spike, better than with me. Now, I'm sounding self-righteous, which I am not. Although, I don't tend to be the irrational sort, I can be pretty self-serving, as long as it serves my purpose. Okay, *now* I sound irrational.  
  
Spike has me all jumbled up. The other day, we got into an argument over the smallest of things. Okay, to me, it was more of a big deal, than I think it was for him. When I have nothing else to occupy my time, I draw. I mean, if I am destined to be an immortal, for an indeterminate amount of time, it's only right that I have a hobby to keep me busy. Just so you know, I draw from the experiences I have undergone. I don't draw white knights fighting evil dragons, or unicorns and the virgin princess that attracted them. Fairies, imps, and leprechauns, aren't things that I pretend to comprehend, let alone sketch. I draw realistic things. I draw people that I love, and vampires that I love and/or tolerate. I've said all of this to introduce the argument that now has my childe and me at odds with one another.  
  
A couple of weeks ago, I found myself pondering... not brooding, because I try to steer away from brooding, as of late... and as I pondered, I got the notion that I should sketch the members of my 'family'. I started at the beginning and sketched Darla in a full flowing dress. After I had put the finishing touches on her baubles and bows, I went on and drew the only smiling imp that I could draw with my eyes closed. It took a total of two hours, but I finally produced a beautiful portrait of Drusilla in a simple baby doll dress, hugging Miss Edith, against her side. When Dru's eyes sparkled and her lips quirked, just so, I decided to embark on the difficult task of drawing my wayward childe, Penn. I was indecisive on what period I should sketch him from. In my more recent memories of him, he had a distant, pained look that I didn't want to reproduce, but in the first days, after I sired him, there was this lunacy that I couldn't possibly put on paper. I decided to draw him from an image that my mind's eye produced. It's a picture of him in a 1920's style suit, wearing a fedora, and grinning over the scantily clad women and their beaded dresses. After I had the picture perfected, down to the last pin stripe, I decided that there was only one family member that I had been neglecting.   
  
Spike's portrait was the hardest to come by. I've always had a difficult time getting his cheekbones to match up. Plus, his ears look like they belong to some poor, little elfin creature out there. He has a scar on his eyebrow, which in all actuality looks like he was just born with it, but for some reason on paper it just looks like the mistake of the artist. Every time I have ever drawn Spike, his hair has been styled differently. One picture that I have never attempted, until recently, was with his hair down to his shoulders, out of the little ponytail that style forced gentlemen, in the late 1800's, to wear. When William would wake up in the afternoon, he would run a hand through his hair and let it lay in a riot, until Darla would fuss at him and Dru would coo.   
  
This all became subject of a picture I decided to draw, only a few weeks ago. After the portrait was finished, I decided that Spike must never see it, so I hid it somewhere that Spike would never look. It found a home in my pant pocket, where it stayed for many days. Of course, it never occurred to me that my childe would have no qualms with reaching in my pocket and grabbing for my car keys, instead of asking like any normal person. He yanked out the keys, and with it came a neatly folded piece of paper that he just had to pick up and open. The picture then became his possession, for it was just 'too beautiful' to give back. I took this as a compliment for all of two seconds and then became defensive. I had worked on the portrait for three and a half hours. It wasn't beautiful. It was Spike! It picture's grin didn't resemble Spike's mischievous grin; it had his mischievous grin. The leer was all his and those damned cheekbones were perfect. Although, I will admit that I drew the picture with long hair so that I wouldn't have to try making his ears, I would say that everything else was purely William.  
  
I'm almost positive that is the reason Spike took the picture. I don't think it had anything to do with vanity or just pissing me off. I believe Spike, although he says that he resents ever being William, still feels a little bit of William inside of him. There is only one thing I can say about that. He needs to snap out of it! If he starts writing poetry and mooning over schoolgirls, I'll personally take my title as sire into affect and beat it out of him. He's Spike, the one constant among us all, and I'm going to go half-crazy if he decides to like the ballet and throws out those ugly Doc Marten's, of his. Spike has the right to reinvent himself, just like any other person does, but he doesn't have the right to 'uninvent' himself. I met William and I loved William, and although Dru was the one to kill him physically, William killed himself spiritually and became a whole new being. He became Spike, and even though it pains me to admit it, I grew to love Spike, as well.  
  
The problem with the picture that I drew of Spike is that it was drawn with an open heart and Spike could see every thing, just as if I had written it down in one of those silly thought bubbles, over to the side. Spike now knows that there is nothing he could say or do that would make me kill him. He could lose his soul, make Cordelia his sex slave, and decided to become the totalitarian leader of Ireland, and I would not be able to stake him myself. Yes, I would most likely get somebody else to do it for me; because killing your childe is like killing an important piece of yourself and there is nothing you can do to take it back. In most cases, once a vampire is dust... they are dust. In a few off cases, vampires have been brought back as humans, but as a whole, vampires usually just 'die' and go to their eternity. Well, as far as I know.   
  
All right. Now we are getting to the part of my story where Spike and I butted heads. I wanted Spike to give me my picture back because A) it is *my* picture and B) it's not *his* picture. Although, I tried to explain this in a logical, well thought out manner, with Spike, he still refused to give it back to me. Instead he called me a 'bloody pouf' and ran down the hallway, like a shot. He figured that if he could integrate us into the group of people standing around the lobby that I would suddenly change my mind and decided that I don't want the picture, as badly as I once thought I did. He was wrong, of course.   
  
I chased him through the lobby and we about trampled Lorne. After I practically had him pinned to a wall, he struck out and knocked the air out of me. I know that sounds impossible, seeing as how I don't have to breathe, but as a force of habit, I breathe anyway. Spike knows this and decided to use it to his advantage. I was knocked backward and I rolled into a crouch. Next thing I know, Spike is trying to make it into my office so that he can lock himself inside and away from my fury. Of course, I have always been faster than him, so this was pointless. I dived at his legs and knocked him through the doorway. In his desperation to get away, he kicked the door shut and we were once again, left to our own devices.   
  
Now, the fight itself is unimportant. In the end, he was minus a shirt and a picture. Both of which, made him pout, horribly. Yes, the boy started pouting. Connor doesn't even pout. The pouting was not the worse thing, though. Spike, as a sign of apology, made me take him to Wal-Mart, so that he could buy more t-shirts. Now, I don't know if you know what type of people hang out at Wal-Mart at two o'clock in the morning, but let me tell you, they are interesting characters. Most of which, are shopping in the hunting section and don't take kindly to pale men in silk shirts. I just tried to avert my eyes and rush Spike through his shopping.   
  
Now, while we were mindlessly walking the aisles of Wal-Mart, Spike decided to bring up a slightly touchy subject. He asked me why the prophecies, so far, have failed to mention him. I had no answer for that, so I just shrugged. Then, he turned quiet, for a while, and then commented that maybe the prophecies did mention him and we were just looking over it. He said that when the prophecies talked about a souled vampire, they weren't very specific and it was possibly him. I asked him if he wanted it to be him and he just shrugged and said he didn't necessarily, but he really didn't like being overlooked. Well, that was a purely Spike thing to say. Only Spike would worry about being overlooked by the Powers That Be. Even I, sometimes, wish they had just skipped over my résumé and gone to the next poor jerk, who came along with a score that needed settling.  
  
Anyway, after a few minutes of silence, between the two of us, I figured the topic was closed and I decided to bring up a small worry that has been plaguing me. I brought up the fact that he hasn't been feeding as well as he ought to. Again, he just shrugged. Now, I'm not one to needle a person about there self-destructive habits, because the gods know that I've had a few of my own. In this case, everything is different. The 'person' with the self-destructive habit happens to be my childe and I wanted to know why he had developed this habit, in the first place. So I asked him. He just muttered something about the blood not tasting right. I told him that he had been drinking cow's blood long enough to have gotten used to it. He just shook his head and sighed.  
  
Well, that answer could have led me to many different conclusions. First off, Spike could be ill. I mean... it is not completely unheard of that vampires get sick. I've had headaches that defy all laws of physics, seeing as how I'm dead and all. Okay, in case that theory is utter crap, I move on to theory number two. It is possible that Spike is just getting a little homesick for Sunnydale. Yeah, I know... Ha, ha, funny. It *is* possible that he misses his friends, though. I know he left Sunnydale in a pretty big hurry, but he still developed friendships and ties there that would be worth missing. If this theory is correct, then it leads us to the conclusion that Spike is actually depressed.   
  
In my opinion, Spike really has no reason to be depressed. First and foremost of these reasons, it is obvious that everyone here loves him. Cordelia and Fred dote on Spike, constantly. They are always trying to make him some snacks and rent new movies to watch, with their new bestest guy friend. Ahem... On another note, Spike shouldn't even have time to realize that he is upset. Between the different jobs that Gunn, Connor, Spike, and I have been working on, the girly sleepover parties that he has an open invitation to, and his afternoon arguments... err... discussions with Wesley and/or Lorne, he only has time to sleep and eat. Both of which, he doesn't do enough of!  
  
I know it sounds like I'm mother hen-ing Spike and maybe I am. I just don't like it when he takes his health into his own hands and then completely overlooks it. If he doesn't want to stay healthy for himself, he should take Connor into consideration. They fight at each other's backs, half of the time. If Spike is cast aside like a limpet, Connor's back will be wide open. Yes, most likely I will be right there to make it all right, but what if I am not. Spike will be the cause of my son getting hurt.   
  
So, although I haven't said it in so many words, I am worried about Spike. He's acting strange, as I have said. This strange behavior raises a question that nobody really wants to ask out loud, because they are scared that I may turn violent over it. The question is, 'What if Spike *is* the souled vampire who will work toward redemption and obtain his manhood?' Well, I have one thing to say to that. He's not.   
  
It's obvious that Spike doesn't want redemption, for one thing, and it's more than obvious that he doesn't ever want to be human, again. He doesn't have a reason or a purpose to becoming human. He doesn't want a second chance. He doesn't want to reclaim his life that was stolen from him. He isn't looking for acceptance from a world that denies his worth. Spike's philosophy is 'screw the world'. So, why would he be looking for the world's approval?   
  
So, yes, I'll admit that I've obsessed over these things a little too long. It has almost gotten to the point that it sounds like I'm trying to convince myself that Spike isn't depressed and that he isn't going to steal the one thing I've been working toward, for the last few years. The thoughts have swirled around in my head, until they have turned into a twisted mass of craziness. It's just that I have nothing else to do to occupy my time, at the moment. I would usually have loads of stuff to do, to take my mind off of all of this, but see the problem is... Spike's not talking to me.  
  
The End of Angel's Brood-athon.  
  
-So, yes... I did traveled back inside Angel's head. It was necessary to do after all the crap I've put the boy's through. *sigh* I don't think it is truly necessary to tell you how hard it is for me to write 1st person point of view, but I'll tell you anyway. It's pretty freakin' hard. Hehe... Anyway, please tell me what you think. I'm probably going to write a Spike point of view and possibly venture into Connor's mind, also. I may not, though. It is truly up to you... the audience. I love you all!-  
  
--Hey, if you know why I named the story Friends of NIMH and I'll give you a cookie. The subtitle was The Past and Pending, which is a great song by The Shins.-- 


	2. Que Sera Sera

Hello all! Okay, first of all, the title Friends of NIMH doesn't really have anything (like music, poetry, or a wonderful book) that it ties to. It is just a joke between a friend and me. NIMH stands for the National Institute of Mental Health, and me and mi amigo sometimes talk about being 'friends of NIMH'. Hehe... Now you are in on the joke. Doesn't that make you feel special? Okay...  
  
I don't own BTVS or AtS and if I did, more likely than not, I would be out trying to take advantage of my position over James Marsters, David Boreanaz, Andy Hallet, J. August Richards, and every other actor of the male persuasion, on the show. Okay, Joss is the king and I am that weird troll guy, hiding behind his throne, trying to figure out how to take over his kingdom. So, I guess that would make you guys the lords and ladies of the court? Hmm... Anyway, I am babbling on, when we should be getting...   
  
(If I didn't mention it before and you don't already know. Dru is dead in my series. You would have to read Dalliance of the Eagles to find out why, but all in all, it's not that important.)  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Friends of NIMH- Que Sera Sera::  
  
So, I have decided to never speak to my sire again. Yes, he has sunk to a new low that I never thought he could sink to and I have lost all respect for him. He is now standing outside my door, pleading with me. He says that if I open the door he will try to explain his last inexplicable outburst, which happens to be the reason I am avoiding him, in the first place.  
  
I'll tell you... It was a bizarre day in LA, when Angel started yelling at me, in the middle of the dental hygiene aisle, of Wal-Mart. The old woman, at the end of the aisle, squeaked and gripped her tube of Fixodent, until it squirted all over the shelves. I'm pretty sure that was her first time seeing a pair of two-inch eyeteeth, in the mouth of a man. Hey, I tried to hold them in, but instinct is thicker than willpower... or something like that.  
  
If Angel hadn't have been acting like such an ass, I wouldn't have vamped out and scared the lady so bad. Technically, it's not my fault that she fell out into the floor. First of all, she was ninety-four years old. A grown man sprouting canines and golden eyes would surprise and shock anybody... especially someone old enough to have changed Pope John Paul's nappies. Secondly, it can't be my fault, if it was Angel's fault and, if you remember correctly, I'm busy blaming Angel for all of my problems.  
  
Now, Angel has never been one to yell or emit any emotion, except angst and deeply seated sorrow, but, on this certain occasion, he really let me have it. Some of the things he said, he will never be able to take back. Up until that point, the two of us had been carrying on a decent conversation. Neither of us had flashed our teeth or raised our voices for any reason, other than to yell at those blasted rednecks, who just wouldn't stop commenting on my duster. Now, I had anticipated Angel getting upset, when I brought up the whole shan shu thingy-ma-bob. It was to be expected, after all, but when I told him how I was feeling about the whole feeding thing, he decided to lose it and started saying things that I'm sure can't be translated over into English.   
  
Yes, that's right. He was spitting Gaelic curses in my face, faster than you could quick search 'em on Google. Now, I know that it sounds crazy, but if I am remembering me sire's old Gaelic lessons, correctly, I think he told me that he wanted the cat to eat me and the devil to eat the cat. I understand all of his built up hostility for me, mind you, but what in blessed Buddha's name did the cat ever do to him?  
  
Anyway, after we escaped from the scene of the crime... no, I don't believe we actually killed the old bird, but she did pass right out, there... we made our purchases, hopped on out to the car, and zoomed out of the parking lot, straight onto the freeway. There was thirty seconds of complete and utter silence before me sire decided to open up his big gob and ruin the comfortable mood that had started to settle. He started saying how I was changing and becoming less vampiric and some shit like that. This all raises one important question, class. Well, what in the bloody hell does it take to make that man happy?  
  
I mean, really! When he was Angelus... my good ol' sane sire Angelus... I was almost too human for him. Then, in Sunnyhell, when I first saw Angel, I was too evil for him. I threatened his soul and his woman and all that dandy fine crap! Now, when Angel lost his soul and came back to me and Dru, he took one look at me and swore up and down that I was the most humanistic vampire he had ever seen. I made him sick, which made me pissed. Now, when he has his soul back and I have a soul... Do you see where I'm going with this? Don't you think he should be happy that we are now on the same page? Finally, his wayward childe is getting tired of running amuck and killing women and small children. Okay, so I was never much for killing small children, but you know what I mean.  
  
Angel is acting like he thinks I'm going to throw out my Doc's and start spouting poetry out of me ass. He has to be smarter than that! I cannot comfortably call the man sire, if he does not know me somewhat better than that! I *was* William, I failed at *being* William, and I will *not* go back to being that froofy haired poofter William! I became Spike and I like Spike! If Angel doesn't like me, then that is his own problem.   
  
Why wouldn't he like me, though? I help him fight the baddies. Yes, William the Bloody is bloodying up demons, instead of humans. I keep his women occupied. Those girls would be asking *him* to join in on their facials and girly movie parties, if I wasn't here and he abhors those sort of things. I keep the peace between Wes and Gunn. Before I came, they were fighting over something... some little hotsie totsie, no doubt. Probably some little blonde bimbo, with a size two dress size and an IQ to match. Of course, I have no right to judge. I was with Dru for over a century and she was insane. I just don't get where this disdain is coming from.  
  
You know, I actually told Angel that if he hated me so much, he shouldn't have made me. He pointed out that he didn't make me. How could I forget something like that? I was embarrassed, so I covered it up with the whole, 'yeah, but you were there and you could have stopped it' argument. He just shook his head and told me that he never hated me. Stupid man. Like I really ever believed that he hated me. The only time he ever made me believe that he hated me, was when he was trying to suck the whole world into Acathala's big ass mouth. Even then I knew it wasn't *my* Angelus doing the sucking thing. Angelus liked to integrate himself into polite society too much to want to suck them into hell.   
  
Now, there is a point that I don't think I've made enough. I really did like Angelus. Even now that I am all soul having, I think I would like him. He was an evil demon, yes, but all in all, he was a pretty nice fellow. He was intelligent, precise, and he told some of the best stories I have ever heard in my life or unlife. Most of them were about whoring, drinking, bar fights, and such... but what else did you think I would enjoy hearing about? He also told me about his human family and friends. Then, he told me how he meticulously killed them off, one by one. Did I happen to mention how precise he was?   
  
Yes, but to make up for his unblessed OCD-ness, Angelus was very imaginative. He didn't really like repeat performances, whether it was in feeding, torturing, or sex, which for vampires, all fall under recreation.  
  
Now, Angel is a prick. He's not evil by any means, but he is a mean son of a bitch, sometimes. The other day, while we were in our war over the photograph... it's to perfect to call a drawing... he actually tore my shirt off of my back. Then, he laughed about it! He thought it was the funniest thing he had seen in a while and I told him that was all Jim-dandy, but he owed me some new shirts! He just laughed all the harder, as he lunged for the picture that I had stuffed in my back pocket. My back pocket! There is no stretch of the imagination that can make Angel grabbing for my ass an okay thing. Although, I'm not so sure that Lorne or Cordelia wouldn't get a kick out of it.   
  
Sometimes I feel bad for Connor. I mean, talk about dysfunctional families. His dad is a vampire for mercy's sake. He's Irish, at that! I'm about as 'effin British badass as they come, and I'm somewhere between the boy's second dad and his brother. The only non-confusing thing the kid has right now is that bleedin' cat. Who, by the way, is going to have his lil' danglies ripped off, if he doesn't quit using my closet as a litter box. Gah! I just thought about it, again! His mother was Darla. That is perverse in so many ways. I don't care if she felt what it was like to have a soul inside of her; she was a complete and utter bint.   
  
I don't see how Connor could have turned out so well, now that I know his story. I mean, it is bad enough being related to both Darla and Angel, but to be raised in a demon infested dimension by 'ol stake 'em up... what was his name? Ugh! I'm sure it will come to me sometime, when I'm not thinking about it so hard.  
  
I almost think I'm going senile. I know that vampires don't really age like humans: mentally, physically, or emotionally. If we did, we would be the ugliest, wisest, smartest, and weepiest creatures you'd ever saw. Instead we are as immature as we want to be, as smart as we teach ourselves to be, and as emotional as Buffy on the rag or Janet Reno at a puppy farm. Take that however you like.  
  
Anyway, where was I going with this? I'll recap and try to catch up with myself. Angel is stupid, Connor is unlucky, I'm under appreciated, and Cordleia and Lorne want to watch me get groped. Wow, I've been all over the place, haven't I?   
  
There has never been a man or woman who could mix me up like my sire can. Dru could do a pretty good imitation, but when it came to being crazy, I think Angel(us) has her passed up, by a long shot. Okay, I would understand if there were people who did not appreciate my point of view on this one. Like I said, I'm under appreciated and I've gotten used to it. It's just Drusilla talked to the moon. You see? Then, there was Angelus. He stalked his victims for weeks before killing them sometimes and then... cue the daunting music please... he wouldn't kill them. That's right! There were times that he wasted a whole month of his unlife on people he probably never planned on killing, in the first place. Now, I think that is one of the more crazy things I've seen. It doesn't change the fact that he taught me how to stick up for myself and not to be afraid of fire.   
  
Well, not literally. I've always been fascinated with fire. It's shiny and hot, and if you blow on it just right, it can jump up in the air like an acrobat. It can also flicker out of existence, just as quick. It's just that Angelus taught me that no matter how hot a situation, you can overcome it, if you have your wits about you. He also added, 'and if you quit acting like such a chomh and start acting like a vampire'. I'm not sure, but I think being a 'chomh' might be considered a bad thing.  
  
That's one thing I never did miss about Angelus. He used to call me all sorts of things in Gaelic, cause he was to proud or to afraid... yes, I said afraid... to say them in English. Angel just comes out and blurts whatever he's feeling at the moment, if he's going to say anything, at all. He calls me an ass and he calls me childe. He tells Cordelia that he loves her and Connor that he's proud of his fighting skills. He calls Gunn an insubordinate jerk and Wesley... Well, they don't talk much. That's where I come in.   
  
I'm more open about my feelings, than many vampires usually chooses to be. I tell Cordelia she has nice legs, I tell Fred she is the sweetest creature under the sun and/or moon, I call Gunn 'muscles', and Wesley is 'slut'. He gets a kick out of that. I'm pretty sure he has been celibate for a long time. Gunn on the other hand, has been getting some from somewhere. He always smells like pheremones and electricity. It kinda' freaks me out, a little. Fred and Cordy are starting up a group called The Old Maid's Club and Lorne is so ultra relaxed all of the time that I can't believe that he hasn't been making the rounds, a bit. Now, Connor... He's been getting out more, but that's only cause I force him to go to bars with me, every now and again.  
  
I know that he's not legal, but the bartenders here don't really care. Connor is a good kid and he doesn't start any problems for them, so they let it slide. I, myself, met a cute lil' red head the other day, who offered me more than I'm willing to talk about. I was all up for it, but then I realized I had the kid with me. I told her I had a friend along and she Invited him to come with. Hmm... That's where I draw the line. The Aurelius bloodline has been pretty incestuous, in the past, but you know, it's all relative. Ha! Sorry, I just had to say it. Ahem... Where was I? Oh, yes. I was talking about how being offered a romp with a gorgeous red head can turn sour, when lil' bro is invited along. LA woman are strange animals.   
  
So, that's everybody's sex life, I suppose. Oh, except Angel, of course. He's just lucky that he's not obsessing over anybody, at the moment. You know what? That man has an obsession over his passions and a passion for his obsessions. It's sad really. From what I have observed, he can go from lover to stalker in two seconds flat. The most obvious case being Buffy, of course. In some cases, he just skipped lover and stalked. He did it with Penn and Dru... They're both dead. Chah... Ain't life grand?   
  
"Would you shut the hell up, Angelus!?" He's still skulking at the door. He isn't actually talking, anymore, but he is breathing and it's getting on my last nerve. I mean, really. I've been ignoring him for a good twenty minutes; you would think that he would get the hint. I think he still thinks I'm stealing his Shan-shu. I'm positive that it is total crap, of course. Not that I might be stealing it. I think the whole shan-shu thing is a ruse. I believe that the Powers That Suck are just using this 'promise' as a carrot to dangle in front of my ass of a sire. It kind of makes me feel sorry for him. Ugh!  
  
It sounds like he just slumped against the door, outside. Well, he's never listened to me before; why would he now? I guess it's only right that I let him off the hook. I mean... he's stooped far enough to actually sit on my doorstep. I guess I'll let the pouf in, now. I've just realized that I'm not really mad at him, anymore. For some reason, every time I think about what a eunuch he is, I just feel all warm and cuddly inside. Hehe... What's that they say about silver linings? Well, I have something to add to it. If you can't find a silver lining, make one.   
  
The End of Spike's Pouting  
  
-So, that is it for Spike's side of things. If you weren't able to tell, this was just another view inside the boy's heads. Kind of like my story Admittance, but more brooding. Hey, they needed a good brood. This was set after Carpe Diem and I'm sorry, Lindsey won't be paying a visit. Maybe, he'll call in my next story. Please, review and tell me if I characterized Spike, well enough. I've had a rough day and I need the reviews. (I locked my keys in my car earlier today. Ugh!) Anyway, 'nuf about me.-  
  
-The subtitle was Que Sera Sera, which is a song by Mary Hopkin. She is so good. (Those Were The Days is an awesome song, but Que Sera Sera fits the chapter better.)- 


	3. I Walk the Line

I don't own BTVS or AtS, mainly because I cant afford them... although, I am willing try out some sort of bartering system. Joss is the High Lord over all of these characters and I am just borrowing them and screwing around with their characterizations. Why else would Connor be so well adjusted? Anyway, this chapter is mainly for those of you who love Connor and his pet kitten Skittles. (For those of you, who do not know who Skittles is... He's Connor's pet cat, in my story. He got him in Dalliance of the Eagles.) Anyway, I have gotten a few requests for Skittles POV and I am aiming to please. So, let's get...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::Friends of NIMH- I Walk the Line::  
  
Skittles is looking down the stairs at us. I'm sure he is just doing what cat's do. He's being curious. Dad said that cats were tons of trouble, on most counts, but he truly does like Skittles. I'm glad; because there is no way that I would ever get rid of him. He helps me forget all of the drama that is going on around here, lately.  
  
Dad and Spike are fight, as per usual. We haven't had a client since that whole child werewolf fiasco. Poor Skittles! I thought he was going to crawl out of his skin, when the kid sprinted after him, down the hallways. If he had hurt my cat, *I* would have skinned the boy. There would have been no need of that 'Mr. Mal' or whatever his name was.  
  
The other day, Spike and Angel came home and stomped up the stairs. Everything was normal except for the door banging and then, the whole Angel yelling thing. He started banging on spike's door and begging for him to open up... it was kind of funny. Well, it was funny when Lorne referred to it as a 'lover's spat' and Wesley said that he thought that their little 'tiffs' were cute.   
  
Skittles is watching my hand, now. I move it left, he follows it with his eyes. I move it right... Well, you get the picture. He watches and haunches up, as I reach into my pocket and pull out a coin. He likes coins. I've started flipping them and catching them a lot, lately. Mainly, because I like to watch Skittles' obvious fascination with them. He is so easy to put into a trance.  
  
You know, sometimes those little eyes of his light up over the strangest things. I noise, a movement, a smell.... Somehow, I think that I wouldn't be able to handle whatever is going through that little head of his. Well, at least, the bits that don't have to do with eating. Even so... Sometimes it just makes me wonder what he is really thinking.  
  
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He keeps on tossing it up in the air. It's just a shiny piece of metal. It's the same shiny piece of metal that rules my dreams and keeps me hopping with anticipation, as it twists and turns on its way toward his palm. It's so round and so shiny. He flips it up and then he snatches it out of the air, just as quick. They call it a coin. I want to eat it.  
  
Earlier today, I tried eating a piece of string hooked to the white haired guy's shoe. He came in and caught me. I think he was pretty angry, because he started growling at me, like a dog, and I really didn't like it. I hissed at him and then he flashed his teeth at me. I flashed my teeth at him and then he picked me up by the scruff of the neck and tossed me out into the hall. He slammed the door, before I could get back inside. I clawed at the wood for a while, but he was pretty adamant about keeping me outside. They call him Spike... I think that's a funny name.  
  
You know, they talk about me like I can't understand what they are saying. They automatically assume that if I can't talk and I don't answer when spoken to, I must not be able to think, or something. Well, I understand just about everything they say, thank you so much! Connor talks to me, all of the time, and that definitely helps. He's the only one I listen to, anyway. He's nice. He also feeds me and changes out my litter box, so I gotta' pay, at least, a little attention to him.  
  
Yesterday, the guy who brought me home was fighting with Spike. I'm pretty sure his name is Dad... or maybe it is Ass. I could be wrong, though. The two of them were growling through a door, at each other. Dad was slumped up against the door banging his head against the wood. I wanted to tell him that it wouldn't work, but he wouldn't have understood me, anyway.   
  
Sometimes I try to tell Connor things, but he just ends up pushing me away or picking me up and petting me. That's okay, though. I like being petted. Spike ruffles my fur the wrong way and I *don't* like that! Dad usually just bounces his hand up and down on my head, a little. I think he is scared to rub me. I wouldn't scratch him. He feeds me, when Connor forgets to.   
  
Spike keeps on making Dad angry. I think it's funny, when Dad gets angry, because then he says funny words that I don't understand. I'm pretty sure Spike doesn't understands them either, cause he usually just looks at Dad like he's stupid and then stomps away. Then, Dad growls and hits something, or he hurries after Spike to apologize.  
  
I don't get why he's always apologizing. What they need to do is just fight it out. If they had a few good tumbles, with each other, they wouldn't be so angry, all of the time. I used to get mad at my brothers and sisters and we would fight it out, until Meow-mmy pulled one of us off of the other one. Then, we would lick and make up. It worked. Then, we would go awhile and do it all over again.  
  
I think that Spike is planning on doing something to me. He's been grinning at me a lot, lately. I don't like it when he flashes his teeth. They are bigger than mine. I have sharp little teeth and retractable claws, but they are nothing compared to his mouth full of off-whites.   
  
I'm not sure, but I think Spike may still be angry with me for using the litter box in his little shoe room. He was the one who shut the door to my room, though! I needed to go! He probably thought he was locking me in, but instead he locked me out. I wasn't doing it to be mean. I just figured that he was the one who shut off the door to my box, so he was the one to get his feet wet.  
  
Connor spanked me for doing it, but I think it was worth it, to see Spike throw his shoe through a window. Dad was angry over the broken glass, so he should have spanked Spike. Then, it would have been fair. Instead, I get spanked and Spike got coddled by one of the females. It was the one shaped like a vase. I think she smells good. I'm pretty sure that Connor thinks she smells good too. I know that he likes to look at her. All of the guys do, but they also like to look at the skinny female and go, 'Aww'.   
  
I don't like her much. The people think she is cute and I can't afford for someone here to be cuter than me. I make too many messes for that to happen. I know that if I tried, I wouldn't make so many messes, but my bladder is still small and I can't always reach my litter box, in time. Then, I'll see a house plant and... Well, they are convenient. Dad gets the angriest over that, cause he has a really good nose. So does Spike, but I don't care if he gets sick over the smell.  
  
The other day a small human was here and he started chasing me around. Connor started chasing him and tried to catch me before the small boy could. I jumped up on the counter and leapt up toward the top of the shelf. I turned and tried to scratch the little boy, but Connor dragged the boy back and then got in a pulling war with him. Connor was yanking on his legs and the boy was holding on to the shelf. I was too busy hissing and spitting, to see what exactly happened, before Connor pulled me off the top shelf. I was still pretty mad, so I batted him in the face. I kinda feel bad about it now, but I'm sure Connor has forgiven me.   
  
Hmm... I'm sitting on the top stair, watching them all. The girls are petting each other's claws, with some sort of colored stuff. It smells bad. The dark man and the guy with horns are talking with the other guy. He smells bad, too. He reminds me of that drink that Spike likes to gulp down. Not the blood. The yellow stuff that comes out of cans or bottles. Spike drinks a lot of them some nights and then he sleeps the whole next day. Dad fusses all day long, when that happens. He acts like he's mad at everyone, but I think he's really just mad at Spike. Kind of like when Spike growls at Connor, because I've done something wrong. I'm pretty sure that's not a good thing to do.  
  
Sometimes I wish I understood what everyone around here was so upset about. There always seems to be something that is ticking everybody off. Maybe, I'll just have to try harder to ignore them.   
  
Connor is walking toward me, now. He stopped flipping that coin a few minutes ago. I think he stuck it in his pocket. I'll have to search for it later. He's bending down to pick me up. Well, I guess I better do something cute, so he won't get mad when he sees that his little pillow is missing. I've rolled over on my back and batted at his hand. He's doing that 'aww' face. I just love it when he does that.   
  
You know what? As he cuddles me close, I realize that I don't care if Spike is planning on getting me. I don't care if Dad is kicking things and yelling in that funny language. All I care about is if my tummy is full and my litter box is clean, and you know what? It is.   
  
That is The End of Skittles' Attention Span  
  
-Now, wasn't that precious. Everybody can say 'Aww', now. Hehe. Yes, that was dedicated to Chelsea and Luba, my crypt mama. It is also dedicated to any of you who happen to love Skittles to pieces, as I do. There! The cat has a personality, now! Haha! Oh, and this will be the end of Friends of NIMH. I can't write any more First Person POVs, right now, cause they are killing me. So, show me some love and I'll try to start you up a good story. Love you guys, bunches.-  
  
--The subtitle was I Walk the Line, which is a Johnny Cash song. I actually cried when I heard of his (and John Ritter's) untimely death(s) and I just wanted to show some love. They were wonderful talents, who knew their niches, and were brave enough to follow through.- 


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